That Capitol Girl
by Katie1995
Summary: Effie's never been accepted by the people of District 12. Most people she knows don't understand her properly at all. Only those who have gone through the same as her, can truly understand why she does what she does. A start of a Cinna/Effie friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N – I do not own the characters or **_**The Hunger Games **_**in any way, all rights are reserved to **_**Suzanne Collins**_**.)**

**That Capitol Girl**

**Effie's P.O.V.**

I am very aware that many people do not like me. The Capitol girl. The reasons span from me being too happy and bubbly, to overly annoying. But what most people do not understand is that not only am I forced to act the way I do, but that my job requires I keep up this unneeded verve for the sake of my sanity.

I jump as the Avox girl in my employment comes round the corner and passes me a message. I mumble my thanks which are returned by a small smile. I am, after all, the only person I know, who in private, gives thanks to their Avoxs. I sigh, running a hand over my yet to be painted face, before unfolding the small letter, sealed with wax with The Capitol's seal.

_Dear Miss. Effie Trinket,_

_I am delighted to inform you that you have been given District 12 for the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games reaping. You will be leaving in two days time ready for the reaping which, of course, will be held at exactly 2pm._

_May the odds be ever in your favour,_

_~ Seneca Crane, head gamemaker._

My fingers crumple the sheet slightly as make my fingers resist curling into the centre of my palm.

District 12.

Again, I have been left with District 12. Another reason to why people hate me, especially the people of District 12. I do not expect less fight from their tributes than I do any other district, I just fear, knowing their lack of wealth, how unhealthy their tributes will usually be. Every one of the district 12 citizens looks at me in distaste and disgust with my attitude towards their reaping, but I know they'll never truly understand how much I dread the reaping as much as they do.

Last year, I looked at the faces of the children in District 12. The twelve year olds were so tiny, they always have been, but last year, all of them were so small and undernourished, I almost refused to do it. Of course, I knew that would have resulted in less pleasant things for me, and so Cinna had literally pushed me on the raised wooden platform outside the justice building.

And every year, every single moment I'm up before those unfortunate people, my heart feels it's going to burst from my chest, because I know that no matter who I've chosen, I've signed their death certificate. It's hard no matter what age they may be, but when they're just twelve and I see them shaking with sobs as they mount the stage, their mother's anguished cries creating a haunting harmony, I almost become undone.

I pray every year, that another district will need me. A career district. But they never do. And every year I am left with the hunched shoulders and solemn, giving up faces of District 12. And I realise, which others don't, that if I do not treat the games as I do, I know I'll be scared out my wits about them, scared out my wits for the district, the tributes and their families.

My make-up allows me to become another, more confident person. My wig, although unneeded, is important for the sake of my bravery.

I go to The Capitol with those two district 12 tributes. I watch as they feast until they can no longer eat any more, I watch them as they train and train and train, I watch them as they're transformed into works of art by our stylists, I watch them and get to know them. But eventually, through everything, I watch them die.

My fingers curl around the note and I screw it up, throwing it towards the small bin by the door in bedroom. I cry out with anger and ultimately sadness, pushing myself away from the vanity I am sat up and marching over to my wardrobe where I pull anything out, along with the suitcase lying patiently ready with a fine layer of dust covering the top.

I'm too agitated to work calmly and so I roughly open the case up, messily folding and placing clothes on top of each other, shoes and wigs going on the very top. The Avox girl, alarmed by my sudden intensity lingers by the door way. I look at her and she gulp, albeit awkwardly because of her situation, and suddenly, I am calmed, because I know I do not want a fate as ugly as hers was. And I know that if for a second, my thoughts are voiced to those around me, I will be in her place, serving someone rich for their needs and entertainment.

"I'm fine, Zelda," I say, patiently while placing a palm to my forehead. "You can go."

She nods once, teetering between the hallway and my bedroom before nodding again and leaving again. I throw myself down beside the suitcase, running my fingers through my hair, a sudden knock jolting me back into present time.

"Effie!" And I recognise that voice. It's the voice of Cinna, district 12's new stylist.

I sigh, making sure he doesn't hear. "The door's open," I call back.

He sweeps in elegantly, nonjudgmental and calm, something that offers stability in my life. I smile for the first time in what seems like weeks and he places his hands on my shoulders.

"The tension, Effie," he whispers, "It shows." I smile again, weakly this time as massages my shoulders.

"District 12... again," I sigh.

He gives me a quizzical look, "They're not that bad," he counters.

I laugh feebly as he clasps his hand in mine and pulls me up to the full length body mirror. "I know, Cinna, I know."

I remove my sleeping gown, comfortable to be naked before Cinna. He examines me before commenting, "You've lost wait, Miss. Trinket."

I know he's right, but I keep a poker face. "I have?" I ask innocently while placing a silk nightgown over my skinny figure.

However, Cinna doesn't buy it and so returns a concerned look. "What's wrong, Effie?"

I shake my head, unwilling to talk to him about the problems that keep me up all night, only to become a reality again in less than three days. "It's just..."

"The games?" I allow myself to shoot him a sharp defensive look. And I can see in the mirror it's enough to tell him the truth. "I feel the same, you know."

Cinna runs his fingers through my hair before reaching for a brush and combing my golden curls that are barely ever seen in public view. I fold my arms over my chest, unconvinced about his reasoning. He smiles slightly, but nods. "I've woken up for the past week in a cold sweat, scared that I'm going to kindle a too close of a relationship with my tribute. I don't know... I don't want to make that connection."

I stare at him from under the hair falling over my face. "It's something we have consider. But as an escort I am there to instruct, help and above all, keep things in order. It is in my contract I do not get too close to the tributes."

"But you can," Cinna retorts, quickly.

"But you can," I agree.

With another kind smile, Cinna pins my hair into the latest fashion, crazy overdone curls. I'm amazed with what his hands can do in so little time. Our small conversation has lifted some of the painful pressure of my chest and I feel a little better about my job, because finally someone's found another person like them. Finally, I am not alone.

"You're coming with me?"

He folds a jacket over his arm and answers, casually, "Yes." I exhale in relief, unsure how long I have been holding my breath. "Now," he continues, tapping my shoulders to make me stand, "I think it's time to go and get refreshed. After all, we have a big, big, big day today."

I smile again, giving him the genuine large smile only Cinna can draw from me in situations like these. "And today, and tomorrow."

"Of course."

Cinna kisses my cheek and I realise that not everyone hates me. That I at least, have one good friend who understands me.

**A/N – This is a short story I just came up with during moments of boredom. I hope it's clear that there's nothing going on between Cinna and Effie in a relationship sort of way, they're only friends!**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, and if so, Please Review! **

**Thanks, Katie1995. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N – I do not own the characters or**_**The Hunger Games**___**in any way, all rights are reserved to**_**Suzanne Collins**_**.)**

**May the Odds be Ever in Your Favour**

**Effie's P.O.V.**

I had arrived yesterday in the setting orange sun. Cinna arrived with me, of course, and we were allocated in the spare victor's houses where they still awaited permanent owners. However, that happening, was very unlikely.

Yawning, I push myself from the comfort of my bed and into the cold unwelcoming arms of morning. It was reaping day. The mood, so bitter and so harsh was already seeping through the troubled sleeping people of District 12. I was here, again, and to most people, was here to destroy another family. I close my eyes as a stab of pain shoots up my body and I almost lose balance, but I catch myself quickly. If there was one thing I was happy about, it was the fact that The Capitol couldn't read my thoughts.

I open the curtains with a quick motion, squinting as bright sun light floods the room and paints everything a fine pale orange. It's a beautiful day, the sun's shining and the sky's blue. Pretty ironic for what today is. Getting into the flow of things, I sit at the vanity opposite my bed and reach for a brush to pull through my utterly outrages hair. The knots are painful, but I know that it's a small mercy compared to the pain of the mothers whose children will be reaped. Once satisfied, I let myself into the bathroom where a shower that looks like it's never been used awaits for me. My nightgown falls to the floor and I step into the shower, allowing the warm water to run over my tense form. It's warm and comforting and I forget for a moment what today is and why I am here, but as I step from the comfort of heat, the coldness of today bites at me, and like every year, I am unkindly reminded what my job is.

I stare at the wall as I dry myself with a pink towel. I must seem so naive, so stupidly oblivious to the suffering I see these people undergo. But I am perfectly aware, perfectly tuned to these people's suffering that sometimes I just wish I couldn't turn up, be late or ill, but with the vigilance of The Capitol, even that's impossibility.

I a white powder resting on the vanity desk and apply it all over my face. I don't care what people think. If it's one thing that keeps me sane today, it's the fact people don't know how unjust I believe the whole thing to be. With the towel still wrapped tightly against my skin, I apply a fine dusting of blush to amplify my cheek bones. Happy that everything so far looks okay, I move into the eye shadow, but a hand catches mine and I jump which earns a small chuckle.

"Effie, my dear, what do you think you're doing?" Cinna lifts my chin up with his finger so I connect my eyes with his. I smile at his calm manner. "I thought you were going to wait for me?"

I exhale and nod. "I just want this over and done with," I reply.

"Come on then." Cinna offers me his hand and leads me into the living room of the house where there's make-up of all sorts dotted around in various places.

"What did you do?" I joke, "Invade a supplies lorry from District 1?" Cinna rolls his eyes, but a grin tugs at the corners of his lips. And we both know, that if we don't laugh today, we'll both continuously scare each other to death, and that's something we don't want to do.

I give him a small moan at the amount I doubt he had a choice to choose; Flavius, Portia, Octavia and Venia all have their own opinions after all.

"I didn't choose this all, you know." I smiled knowingly taking my seat.

"I guessed."

With a soft smile curving his lips, he walked up behind me. "Shall we start with the hair, Miss Trinket?"

"Indeed," I reply.

Slipping the green coloured skirt around my waist, I zip it up and move into the jacket that makes this fabulous number. My hair – well, wig, is pink in colour, but surprisingly it suits what I'm wearing very well. I breathe in deeply and look to Cinna who's stood in the corner of the room admiring his work.

"Thank you, Cinna."

Shaking his head, he comes over and places two large hands on my shoulders, whispering in my ear, "You know you're always welcome."

Placing a kiss on his cheek, I take his hand and lead him out into the clean air of District 12. "You'll be there won't you?" I ask, shakily, because if it's one thing I don't think I can ever do, is mount that stage.

"Always," he says, linking his arm with mine and starting the dreaded walk to the town square. I can see people beginning to gather around the make shift stage in front of the justice building. Some who recognise me turn their heads away in disgust, some mutter obscenities under their breath. I take it all in my stride as I continue with Cinna by my side. We turn a corner, and I'm knocked of breath as I see the crowd that has formed. I stop suddenly and my right arm is tugged as Cinna carries on.

"Come on, Effie," he whispers, gently. "You have to get through this."

"For who?" I whisper back.

"All of us," he replies, gravely.

I put on foot timidly in front of the other and force myself the further few steps left until I get to the stage. The steps seem unusually large as I step up them carefully one at a time. I see Mayor Undersee sat nervously on one of the chairs. His hands are wringing together as he spots me. He tries to give me a small smile – well, I think he does – but it turns into a grimace instead. I lower my gaze and sit awkwardly in my seat, a space away from the mayor. Haymitch I see has yet to make an appearance.

I scan the building audience. There, right at the back, someone's struggling through the crowds. A girl with her hair braided is pushing her way from the front to the twelve year olds stood waiting like cattle. A girl, considerably smaller with mismatching blonde hair in the sea of brown is pushing her way towards the bigger girl. The smaller girl's face is red and I gather she's been crying. But then the girl is taken into the bigger girl's arms and I realise they're sisters. A painful lump forms in my throat and I cough to hide my discomfort.

_Please don't let me pull their names out, _I silently beg.

The clock in the square shatters the silence into shards as it chimes fourteen times. I brace myself for what I have to do. I watch with uninterested eyes as the Mayor reads about the dark days and why we have The Hunger Games. Like usual, he ends his speech in the mandatory way. "It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks."

I keep listening and watching for the staggering and usually drunk Haymitch.

"Our list of victors," continues the mayor, "Is Haymitch Abernathy and Belle Ackery." One, Haymitch, is still alive. But every year he's out of it.

This year is no different.

The middle aged man staggers onto stage with barely any balance. An applaud is shared throughout the crowd, as he falls into the third and vacant chair. He sees me and I immediately wish I hadn't made eye contact because before I know it he's hugging me. The stench of the man is unbearable and rather disgusting, but I manage to push him off. After all, the whole of Panem is watching this.

Being as professional as I can, I brush his act of utter confusion off, and stand at the podium. I have to get this going again somehow. But then I'm thinking of those two sisters and the little girl's terrified face and I nearly stumble. Breathing in, I cover my fear and smile excitedly.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favour," I say loudly and clearly as I catch Cinna's eye. He smiles and gives me thumbs up for my encouragement. However, he doesn't know how much I wish to run off of stage this exact moment.

I catch site of the older girl as I cross the stage and say sweetly, "Ladies first!" She has a scorn on her face, but I can see the worry in her grey eyes and I know she's thinking about her sister. Without hesitation I plunge my hand into the bowl of girls' names and hold my breath, hoping "_It's not going to be them, it's not going to be them."_

And then I clutch one tightly in my fingers and pull it out just as quickly as I went in. Hurrying back over to the microphone, I unfold the slip of paper and take a moment to read the name.

_Please, not them._

"Primrose Everdeen!" I look up in dread, and my heart stops beating. The small blonde girl that stood crying from the back of the 12 year old crowd is taking small, stiff steps up to the stage. From the corner of my eye I see a boy catching the girl's sister.

"_You stupid, stupid bitch, Effie," _I scorn myself. _"She's just twelve."_

As if agreeing with my thoughts, the audience mumbles like they always do when a twelve year old is reaped.

"Prim!" And now I'm definitely in danger of crying because her sister's running up for her sister, her tone desperate. "Prim!" She repeats as her sister draws closer.

Primrose Everdeen is about to mount the first step when her sister pushes her behind her. "I volunteer," she shouts. And that is how much love for your family goes. I'm stood paralysed for a moment, looking at this girl with a wild haunting spark in her eyes.

I respond in my usual fashion. My fear after all, cannot show through. "Lovely," I say, "but I believe there's the small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does comes forwards then we, um..." I trail off, uncertain about the regime for volunteering. It's never happened once since I took this job up, and now I just look like an idiot.

As if annoyed, the mayor replies with a frown. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

And I watch intently as she mounts the stage, stopped only by her small sister's arms which are locked around her waist. I can she's trying to keep emotionless like me, and so far, she's doing a fantastic job.

"No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" The girl closes her eyes and another painful ache twists my heart.

Katniss shrugs her sister off, her voice forceful, "Prim, let go!" But Primrose doesn't let go and so she repeats herself, louder this time. "Let. Go."

Primrose it crying, but a boy picks her up into his arms and carries her screaming, wailing form to her mother. Keeping it together and tearing my eyes away from the devastating scene, I continue. "Well, bravo! That's the spirit of the games!" Katniss gives me a distasteful and nasty look, but I brush it off. I'm enjoying this as much as she is. "What's your name?"

The girl, her eyes still boring into mine, answers, "Katniss Everdeen."

"Come one everybody," I say brightly, "let's give a round of applause for our newest tribute!" But as I was expecting, no-one does. Instead, as if suddenly urged by an invisible force, they all, one by one, put their three middle fingers to their lips and extend their arm towards Katniss. I lose my voice at the act of love towards this girl. Respect. This girl is being shown respect.

You could hear a pin drop, that is until Haymitch decides it's his time to shine. Staggering across the stage, he throws an arm around the defenceless girl. "Look at this one!" he yells. "Lots of... Spunk!" Tripping past her, he comes to the front of the stage and points outwards accusing someone who we can't see. "More than you!" he spits, "more than you!" And then it dawns on me he's probably taunting The Capitol.

Completely unprepared, Cinna's voice rings in my ear. "Don't stop now, darling, you're nearly finished."

Taking the chance, I ignore the fact Haymitch's fallen off the stage and push on. "What an exciting day!" I try to resolve my hair situation which Haymitch has caused. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" The terrible stomach dropping feeling washes over me again and I'm so desperately hoping it's not going to be another twelve year old.

Taking my steps as quickly as I can, I submerge my hand into the boy's bowl and take the first slip I can. Taking my hand out, two slips have made their way into my fingers. My day get even worse as I take the decision to save one boy and not the other.

Crossing back over to the microphone, I read the name clearly. "Peeta Mellark!"

A boy, about Katniss' age looks around in confusion, almost disbelievingly. I gulp and he looks at me directly. Mounting the stage, his eye alight in panic, but he keeps his cool. Taking his place next to Katniss I ask a question that is mandatory to ask every year.

"Any volunteers?" I look around, but no-one volunteers for this unfortunate boy.

The mayor stands up to take my place and I'm relieved to step down for him. Reading the Treaty of Treason, my mind is distracted by the girl who volunteered for her sister. And I hoping this year, that for once, I'll be crying from victorious joy instead of the devastating sadness I drown in each year.

**A/N – Tell me if you like this story so far, please? If not many people read it, I may discontinue it because I have a lot of stories I'm dedicated to so far.**

**Anways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was fun writing it in Effie's P.O.V. Reviews and always appreciated!**

**~ Katie1995. :)**


	3. Getting to Know me

**(A/N – I do not own the characters or**_**The Hunger Games**___**in any way, all rights are reserved to**_**Suzanne Collins**_**.)**

**Getting to Know me**

**Effie's P.O.V.**

Haymitch stinks of booze and clear unkemptness. His breath reeks with spirits and he has clearly not bothered to wash for a _very _long time. Screwing my nose up in distaste, I occupy myself in pacing the corridor of the Justice Building, just waiting for that moment where Katniss and Peeta are to be escorted to District 12's train station.  
>From the right of me a commotion has begun. A shrill scream splits the heavy silence and the doors from Katniss' room are swung open to reveal three peacekeepers containing a small, thrashing blonde girl. A woman stands behind them and is repeating herself over and over, "don't hurt her, don't hurt her!"<p>

"Katniss!" I realise it's Primrose Everdeen who's causing the calamity and I quickly look away as a peacekeeper leads her down the cold marble corridor and places her on a velvet chair as her mother follows her down.

Haymitch grunts something unintelligible and although I don't know what he's said, I know he's targeting me. My blood begins to boil slightly. This man had _no _idea. Breathing out, I'm determined not to show any pain or discomfort this moment brings to me every year.

One hour.

That's all my tribute's have before their family is forced to leave them with me. One hour. The time in which they have to say final goodbyes; some goodbyes are permanent, some aren't. But for most of the time, my tribute's goodbyes are permanent.

A peacekeeper startles me into current affairs. "Half an hour, Miss Trinket, until they're free to go." I smile sweetly at him and nod. Happy that I've caused this man to blush, I realise my acting has yet to let me down.

"Prim, look at me," the woman whispers warningly at the blonde girl still sat hiccupping and crying on the plush arm chair. "We have to leave, we have to be gone."

The girl steals a glimpse at her mother and screams, "you don't care! If you did you'd be upset, but you're obviously not."

The woman sits back on her heels and gulps as she drops her head into her hands. Shaking her head, the girl stares down at her mother's crouched figure. Primrose realises how in a split second she had broken her mother's resolve. Now it's the mother's turn to start shaking uncontrollably, and all her daughter can do is place a hand on top of her mother's.

"I didn't mean it like that..." The girl whispers.

Mrs. Everdeen looks up suddenly at her daughter's voice and the two girls seem to be exact replicas of each other. Both are blonde; blue eyed and their cheeks splotchy with tears. "This shouldn't be happening to us. Your name was one slip in _thousands!" _ She strokes her daughter's cheek gently with the back of her right hand while brushing the tears off her cheeks with the other hand. "I wish your father was here. He wouldn't be crying, he wouldn't let you be starving, he'd know what to do. He'd give Katniss advice and promise her things without the words becoming stuck in his throat. He'd show her courage and love, and he'd believe in her the whole way."

The girl crawls timidly into her mother's lap. They're sat on the cold marble floor, but they're holding tightly onto each other.

I'm broken completely when Mrs. Everdeen rocks her daughter in her arms and whispers, looking directly at me. "I can't do that."

A peacekeeper rounds the corner and as he sees them anger clearly hits him. "What are you still doing here?" He yells. "Out, out!"

Picking herself and her daughter up, she spits back, "alright, we're going!"

Taking her daughter's hand, she leads a stumbling Primrose out the Justice building past my unfitting form and out into the overcast day. It's long enough, however, for her eyes to find mine and all the accusations to be targeted towards me. I allowed to eyes to flit over to the movement in the other corner of the corridor we're stood in. Cinna appears behind a one of the pillars and my chest relaxed slightly.

Haymitch snorts as he walks up to me. "Capitol trash," he sighs, swigging from a small bottle of liquor. Cinna ignores Haymitch and I do, too. After all, he has no idea what I believe is right and what isn't.

"They need us at the train station, Effie," Cinna says softly while taking my hand in his. "Come on." Haymitch gives me a twisted and nasty smile as I stride past him. I hate him and he hates me. Period.

**~ XOXO ~**

My quarters are very nice. My bedroom has a colour scheme of soft colours including light pinks, purples and some blues. My wardrobe, unfortunately, was a rainbow of uncomfortable colours. Corsets of all shapes were hung up neatly with the fabric that accompanied them. Sighing, I closed the doors and sat on the edge of my bed. I would kill for some sweat pants and a top, something that was unknown to everyone everywhere.

Deciding that the make-up was too much, I decide to tone it down. Wiping most of the blusher off, and slowly peeling away the fake lashes, I start to see me again. Leaning back into the back rest, I close my eyes and drop my hands to my lap. The darkness allows me no peace, and that woman flashes through the darkness, her voice echoing over and over in my head, _"I can't do that."_ I snap my eyes open when it becomes too much to bear. Looking around my chambers, I find an outfit has been laid down for me on my bed. Relieved it's not crazy like the current one I'm wearing now, I strip immediately and change into the more free fitting and comfortable clothes.

"You're welcome," someone calls through the door, which makes me laugh.

"Thank you, Cinna," I call as his footsteps fade.

Placing a pearl necklace around my neck, I check my reflection for any flaws, a stupid thing to do on a train, but its habit and can't be helped.

"Come on, Effie," I remind myself gently. "You have to do this."

Breathing in, I step outside of the carriage and immediately bump into a tall, lean figure. Assuming it's Haymitch, I do not apologise. That is, until an unfamiliar voice reaches my ears.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, forgive me." I turn around and gasp, placing a hand over my mouth to obliterate the surprised sound, but the figure has heard me.

"It was my fault," I retort, quickly. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

The man smiles attentively, shaking his head in reply. "No, it was truly my fault."

The flower I had held in my hand is now in this man's hands in result of dropping the rose when I collided with him.

"Here, madam," he smiles, passing me the white rose.

"Thank you," I mumble, a blush painting my cheeks a fine red.

Bowing his head and shooting me one final smile, he turns on his heel and walks away from me. I lean against the train wall and breathe in deeply to regain my composure. It's stupid, that I, Effie Trinket should be feeling like a thirteen year old girl again, flustered because she's caught the attention of a handsome young and out of her league man.

Seneca Crane; head gamemaker on this train.

I smile in utter spontaneity and a giggle leaves me lips. I bite my tongue, determined not to catch the attention of wandering Avoxs. Seneca Crane is made to examine each train before it leaves for The Capitol, ensuring that it is completely safe for the tributes, and, if anything comes up as being unsafe like finding objects tributes may kill themselves with, are removed and destroyed. Our train is examined last because of the number district we are.

But Seneca Crane! I can't be taken by _him!_

A voice pipes up from behind me and I jump from one wall to the other.

"Cinna!" I squeak, my heart thumping loudly in my ears. "Do you have to do that?"

I try to be serious, but he's laughing and my frown's becoming a grin. "Some light in this situation helps us get through today," he reminds me, matter-of-factly.

"The tributes should be here now," I breathe as we walk hurriedly down another carriage, "Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark."

Cinna tugs me back slightly and I give him an odd look. "Slow down," he comments.

"This is a big, big, big, day, Cinna," I remind him. "We have much to do!"

Dropping his hand from my arm, he shakes his head in amusement as I pout at him. I lead the way to the lounge and tell Cinna to stay there.

"After all, Katniss isn't meant to see you until we arrive in The Capitol."

I say my goodbyes to him, which despite knowing I'll see him two days time, it's still difficult. No-one on this train knows my attitude towards the games. I mean Haymitch above everyone, of course, but apart from that, our similarities end.

I continue to the dining cart where I take a seat at the mahogany table. Running my fingers over the smooth, polished wood, I begin to feel a sense of calm. I hear in the distance, about two carriages up, doors slide open and voices pipe up in utter amazement.

"Here?" I hear a male voice ask.

"Here," replies a girl.

The voices get louder and footsteps become audible as two figures make their way into the room. I look up with a smile laying peacefully on my lips and beckon Katniss and Peeta further into the room. "Come on now," I say, my tone friendly. "I'm not going to bite."

Peeta gives me a half hearted smile, but Katniss is still steel faced and her eyes cold. However, despite her obvious dislike, I can see the wonder in her eyes through the bars she has put up. She, like me, runs her fingers, almost disbelievingly over the polished surfaces. Peeta follows on after her as Katniss picks up a small cup cake and examines it closely.

"I've only seen these in your shop window," she laughs, lightly, turning the iced cake in her fingers and looking towards Peeta.

"So have I," he jokes back.

I smile fondly at them because it's the same each year no matter what tributes I have. "Well, enjoy them," I say, standing up and smoothing my skirt down. "I'm going to find Haymitch."

The two kids look at me, lost for words as I remember my outfit has changed. I must now look so... normal to them. "I'll see you two in a minute," I add, as if that could help ease the awkwardness filling the room.

Pacing the corridors of the train, I stop when a putrid smell hits my nostrils. Spirits and vomit; lovely.

"Haymitch?" I call, continuing further although I want to turn back. "Haymitch," I yell again, my patience thinning.

"What, woman?" He moans back, appearing shabbily dressed in the doorway to his sleeping quarters.

I fold my arms across my chest and sigh, looking at the mess my tributes will soon call mentor. "They're on the train and lunch is being served in half an hour."

Haymitch snorts as if amused. "Lucky them."

I roll my eyes and walk away from him, calling back, "If you're not there, don't expect dinner until seven!"

Heavy footsteps fall back into the carpeted room and I roll my eyes again. "That man has _no _manners," I sigh to myself.

"So," Peeta says when I come back into the room. "Where is he?"

I fall into one of the many plush arm chairs opposite Katniss, whose feet are tucked under her chin. "He's supposedly coming down," I answer, slightly exasperated. "But don't hold your breath. He's not exactly... sober."

Katniss has a small smile forming on her lips when I look at her. But she recovers quickly and replies, "When is he ever sober?"

Surprisingly, a nervous laughter is shared among us and I relax back into the chair, wrapping my arms around my knees now tucked up under my chin like Katniss.

"Believe me," I mutter. "I've been doing this for eight years and I still don't know the answer."

Katniss and Peeta laugh again and I can't help but join in. _See,_ I think, _I'm not as bad as I'm made out to be._

**A/N – Sorry for the slow uploads, but here we go! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you see any grammatical or continuity errors, please don't be afraid to say so in a review!**

**Like always, Please Review! Thanks, Katie1995. :) **


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